The Last Party
by bren97122
Summary: A young maid already has her hands full with a festive party at the grand Boyle Estate. However, an uninvited guest is in attendance- and he doesn't intend for anyone to leave outside of a body bag. A darkfic, rated M for bloody, violent goodness.


Never in her life did young Abigail Brookworth expect to be in the employment of the Boyle family.

The mere mention of that name gave off power. The Boyles were the oldest and most prosperous family in Dunwall and maybe all of Gristol. They were rich, had beautiful daughters and handsome sons, and seemed to influence even the highest members of the imperial government. Abigail was just a maid, but she indeed enjoyed her job. The Boyles were nice enough to their servants; she and her fellow servants were allowed to eat whatever rich food was not served during meals, which was always a lot considering that the three Boyle sisters ate like birds, and although she was paid about fifty Coin a week, the Boyles were often careless with loose coins and left much of it around sitting on tables or chairs. And thus, Abby usually able to help herself to an involuntary pay raise compliments of the Boyles. It wasn't like they needed any more money, and besides, they had so much of it no one noticed ten or twenty coins disappearing into her pockets.

And one night, during in the days of the terrible plague, the Boyles held a grand party for the sake of it, almost as if they wanted to spite fate itself in the face of the rat plague. Or maybe it was to show off to the poorer residents of Dunwall, who were definitely going to see the lights and fireworks of the Boyle Estate lighting up the night.

Whatever it was, Abby found herself at a very busy time. The Boyles needed to have the house free of any dust particle of dirt chunk. She worked for hours polishing the marble fireplace and dusting down cushioned chairs and couches. She spent hours cooking and laying out decorations and polishing every plate and utensil until she could do up her hair in its reflection. The Boyles wanted everything to be perfect, down the smallest of the smallest details. They needed to prove that the plague and poverty had not claimed the Boyles- nor will it ever.

The night of the party came, and as expected, the rich and powerful came in droves. Abby laid out all the food and spent hours down in the kitchen mixing drinks and cooking more food. She wasn't able to eat tonight; she would be too busy trying to make sure _everything _would be the best it could be. To be honest, Abby was excited for the party. There would be plenty of handsome, rich nobles there. Maybe one would catch her eye and take up interest in the young maid. It would be just like some Morley romance novel. She did consider herself a good looking girl. She was young, only twenty one, raven black hair, large, dark eyes, pale, smooth skin, and to top it all off, she was a virgin...

In the middle of the party, she went up with a tray of Serkonan grapes meant for the main table. She took a moment to check on the state of wine still left on the table, when a man bumped into her. Although it was his fault entirely, she needed to remember her manners and apologize, lest she wanted to be reported to her superiors. "Oh, I'm sorry sir. I did not see you." she said. The man glanced at her and walked on without saying a word. He looked very odd for the party. He wasn't richly dressed like the other guests. He wore a grey overcoat, dirty and ridden with holes as if they were created by bullets. He wore a simple brown vest under that. The most disturbing part of his ragged appearance was his party mask- she even hesitated to call it a "party mask." It was gunmetal grey with dull bronze accents, had two clear lenses for eye holes, and its overall appearance was similar to a human skull. It sure didn't look very festive...

Abigail pushed the thought of the man out of her mind, thinking it was just some noble trying to get shock value from his costume. She headed to the foyer to make sure everything was alright there. She again saw the strange man, leaning against the door and she swore that she saw him withdraw something from his pocket and place it on the door, and did this thrice more.

This man was getting stranger by the minute. She had half a mind to report him to a guard, but decided not to. What if this man was actually doing nothing wrong and suddenly a city guard tapped him on the shoulder to ask him a few questions? The trouble she would get in if that happened. Still, there was just _something _up about him.

A few minutes later, she was back to her duties of placing out food and cleaning plates. While she was on the main table, the mysterious man walked past her again, heading to the stairs that went to the second floor and the kitchen below. A guard stopped him. "Guests are forbidden from entering the second floor. Move along, now." the guard growled. The man did something unexpected. From the depths of his coat, he withdrew a knife of sorts and with the single push of a button, the knife started to fold open, the handles snapped into place and the blade shot out like a telescope. He then plunged the knife into the guard's throat, throwing him onto the floor, gagging.

Fast as lightning, the man stabbed the Overseer who was also posted near the door through the temple, withdrawing his blade after it burst out of the other side. The guards, who were in shock, started to draw their swords. The man whipped out a pistol, with strange modifications all over it. There were six bullets ready and waiting to be fired rather than just one. Abby remembered going to a military convention some weeks ago in eastern Dunwall. A guard demonstrated a prototype pistol that would "revolutionize" the field of battle. It held six bullets in a single cylindrical chamber and fired one after the other with no delay. It was referred to as a "revolving pistol" and was now rumored to be in use with elite soldiers across the Empire. But this man couldn't have had one!

Nevertheless, he used his pistol to great efficiency, shooting all three guards in the head before they even finished drawing their weapons. She saw the last one fall, a pink mist forming a halo around his head. The man used the remaining bullets to shoot three random partygoers, who were rooted to the spot by fear and shock. He reloaded swiftly, and turned his knife over in his hands and dashed over the main table, sending food and silverware clattering to the ground. A guest tried to dodge him, but the man plunged his blade into her spinal cord.

Abby ran, trying to get to the front door and get out of there. Two guards ran out of a room, swords and pistols drawn. The man shot one, and knocked the pistol out the hands of another. The guard fought back swinging his sword elegantly with a trained hand. The man was not stopped by this, however. With one block that knocked the guard off balance, his blade soon found a resting place in the guard's chest. Abby pushed past a cowering guest. And saw her prize- the front door. But one male guest made it before her and grabbed the handle, as he did, one of the small contraptions the man placed on the door sprung out sending small blades in every direction. The guest's head, left arm, and right leg seemed to pop out like doll's limbs. He just... Fell to pieces.

She backed away from the door. She didn't want to end up like that. Abby need a safe place to hide. Three guards rushed passed her to confront the rampaging man. She ran back to the main hall. She saw bodies and body parts scattered everywhere. The man was using a crossbow now and when one guard entered the room to attack him, he fired one bolt and bent right into his forehead and barely missed Abby, she even felt her hair being ruffled by the bolt's wind as it flew past her. The man turned to her and raised his knife, but a grenade was thankfully chucked in his direction. The man rolled away and Abby took the momentary distraction to duck under the main table and hide herself.

After the blast, she peeked out from under the table cloth. Waverly Boyle, in a snow white shirt and trousers, was on her knees, hands in front of her face, whimpering slightly. The man walked calmly towards her. Abby heard his sharp boot falls mingling with the deceptively cheery piano and violin music in the background. He grabbed Waverly by her throat and bought her back to her feet. She struggled to get away, but she was interrupted by the man's blade being plunged into her chest. Blood splattered all over the floor a small bit landing of Abby's gloves. But the man was not done. Waverly was wheezing, obviously on the verge of death. The man still held her up and plunged his blade into her chest again. He withdrew it and stabbed again. And again. And _again._

He let her go after some twenty five stabs and her body dropped onto her side, white expressionless mask looking right at Abby. She had a bloody hole that went right through her chest and was big enough to see right through the other side and her white outfit was stained with so much blood; it was hard to tell her from Esme Boyle's crimson dress. Speaking of Esme, the man had something in store for her, too.

She was hiding behind a door, but attempted to make a break for it. The man did something very strange. Instead of running after her, he raised his left hand, which had some sort of strange design Abby hadn't noticed before, and it glowed. He then seemed to move across the room and in front of her in the blink of an eye. She ground to a halt and tried to run the other way, but the man wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her close to his torso, almost as if he was starting some macabre dance. The knife went into her heart, very slowly. She screamed for a second but fell silent. In the end, her own dead weight allowed herself to slide of the man's bloody knife.

Lydia Boyle also made the mistake of cowering and not running. She begged the man to spare her. He promised him anything- Gold, clothes, grand houses, even her own body... If he would spare her. Luckily, he made her death not too slow. He roughly threw her to the ground and drew his crossbow. He placed it right up to the forehead of her mask and fired a single bolt that made a grisly crunching sound as it penetrated her skull. She died in an instant.

Now Abby did not want to end up like the Boyle sisters. The man looked around at his handwork, seemed to nod in approval, and left the main hall. Abby left her hiding place and slowly made her way to the front door, trying to hold down her supper at the sight of what this man has done. Bodies of guards and partygoers seemed to be littered across the grand halls. Bodies lying on top of each other, some leaning against walls, splayed over an across chairs and tables, some were missing heads, legs, or arms. She saw one that was even cut in half, almost as if by some precision butcher's knife.

She saw her prize, the front door. A few dismembered corpses were scattered there, the result of some unfortunate souls trying to escape from the carnage. She heard a footstep behind her.

It was him. Crossbow in one hand, knife in the other. She turned to run, but he shot a single bolt into her thigh. In pain, she fell to the floor. Ignoring the stinging pain radiating across her leg, she got back up and hobbled away. He was upon her though. He turned her around until they were face to face. Abby could make out a pair of eyes behind his blue lenses. "Please..." she said. "I'm just a maid. Just don't kill me..." she muttered out. The man put up his knife and pressed the tip right under her chin. She swallowed hard. This was it. She was going to die, right here, right now. He pressed his knife up slowly until small beads of blood started to flow down the blade. The man then did the most surprising thing that night. He let her go and put away his knife.

She stood there, breathing heavily. The pain in her leg seemed to go away now. She was focused solely on the man who had just murdered dozens walk away calmly, leaving her alone in a sea of corpses and a river of blood. He stopped for a second and faced the guest ledger that was sitting on a table by the door. He took the pen and scribbled something into it. He then gripped his knife and ran his hand over it slowly, collecting some blood which was coating his blade. He then flicked his hand so the blood would splash on the pages. He looked once at Abby and left.

Later, guards swarmed the building and found a gruesome scene. Nearly sixty people, including all the guests and guards posted in the building, were dead. There was only a single survivor of the Boyle Massacre as it became known- a young maid named Abigail Brookworth, who was found sitting on the floor, bleeding from a wound in her thigh from a crossbow bolt, which she was smart enough not to remove. No one knew why she was the only survivor of the horrible slaughter. But she could figure it out easily. This man wanted to send a message and leave someone to tell what happened that night. Until the end of her days, Abigail was plagued by that sight- the sight of that mask looking right at her.

And what was written on the guest ledger by the man, splattered with blood?

Corvo Attano.


End file.
